


chronic insomnia

by JackalBae (iKain2)



Series: Spanish Dog and Canadian Moose [1]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Idiots in Love, Insomnia, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 07:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12206511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iKain2/pseuds/JackalBae
Summary: It’s too cold and Jackal can’t sleep. Buck helps.





	chronic insomnia

The room was much too quiet without Elena's snoring coming from the top bunk. His fellow operator had long since left for a mission in the French alps, and would not be back until tomorrow at the earliest, so it was just Ryad, the miserably tiny bunk bed with creaking springs that all bedrooms in the terribly cold in the Hereford Base HQ had, and the occasional sound of water dripping from the sink in the half-bathroom on the other side of the room.

It was sometime around 3 A.M. when the Spaniard finally shoved off the covers and sat up, running a hand across his face. He felt around for his boots in the darkness and eventually found them in a corner that he did not remember putting them in. Briefly, Ryad checked the temperature of the room with his phone, squinting at the screen as the brightness of the screen nearly blinded him with the intensity of a stun grenade.

It was roughly 1˚C, if not less. No wonder he was freezing, even underneath the additional blankets he had borrowed from Elena's unused bunk.

Ryad left the room he shared with his fellow GEO operator and quietly crept through the hallway. The kitchen was deserted, as expected, and the man maneuvered carefully around the counter in the center of the room using only the light coming from his phone. He procured a teabag from the cabinets that held an assortment of English foodstuffs he was only vaguely familiar with, refilled the electric water boiler, and slouched tiredly against the countertop as he waited for the machine to do its thing.

Some minutes later, a creak by the doorway had Ryad snapping out of his brief doze and into full alertness. Sébastien, wearing little much else than his usual beanie, combat pants, and a long-sleeved thermal shirt, had frozen mid-step into the room. The Canadian relaxed when he saw it was only him in the kitchen.

" _Buenos días._ " Ryad turned to fix himself a cup of tea, now that the water had sufficiently heated up.

"Did you sleep?" With a voice raspy from having just woken up, Sébastien shuffled into the room, making a beeline towards the refrigerator.

"It's much too cold." The Spaniard sat down on one of the barstools arranged around the counter in the middle of the kitchen, hunching around his steaming cup of tea. His fingers were burning from the heat radiating from the mug, but it was a welcome warmth compared to the harsh chill of the air.

"Damn heater's broken again." Sébastien annoyed grumble matched the small furrow between the man's eyebrows as he shut the refrigerator door, empty-handed. “I’ll check it in the morning.”

Ryad took a drink from his mug of tea. The bitter liquid trailed a scorching line from his mouth and down his throat, but it didn't quite subdue the lingering tiredness that pulled at his nerves.

"Why aren't you wearing a heavier coat?" Sébastien's quiet question pulled him out of his unfocused stare in the vague direction of the kitchen's doorway.

Ryad looked down at himself. He was already wearing two layers under a thermal shirt and his uniform jacket. He tried to recall the contents of the closet space he had divided up between himself and his roommate, but beyond the usual BDUs and his old gear...

"I don't believe I have a heavier coat? Haven’t had the time to request a new one, I suppose."

Without saying anything else, Sébastien turned around and walked straight out of the kitchen. Ryad watched him go, somewhat confused but mostly tired and annoyed at the fact that he had been unable to sleep in the past 48 hours for no discernible reason.

An indeterminate amount of time later, in which the Spaniard spent staring at the contents of his cooling mug of tea, a heavy weight landed onto his shoulders. Blinking, Ryad turned his head and his nose brushed up against a faux-furred white collar.

"I had an extra one." From behind him, Sébastien had reached over and took the mug. The man headed over to dump out the cold tea and refill it with hot water.

Ryad shrugged on the coat, hoping that the redness that was undoubtedly starting to crawl up the back of his neck and to his ears was hidden in the dim light. Despite the length of the sleeves just cutting half an inch short of his wrists, the thickly-padded coat was well-worn and smelled faintly of wood. He was still freezing, but it wasn't as oppressive as before.

"Thank you, _Sebastíen_." The roll of the other man's name on his tongue was heavy with his Spanish accent. He’d never quite gotten the hang of saying it properly.

"N-no problem." The mumble was almost too quiet, and the man set down the refilled mug on the counter. "I'm used to colder temperatures."

"Really, thank you." Ryad grabbed the other man's wrist in a light grip before he was able to walk away. He managed to muster up enough energy to grin lopsidedly.

Sébastien's lips twitched into an expression that was almost a smile. Then, he nodded slightly in the direction of the kitchen doorway. "I'm going back to bed. Try to get some sleep?"

 "I can try. _Duerme bien._ " Ryad slid his hand off the other man's arm and wrapped his hands around the hot mug of tea.

With another adorable half-smile, the Canadian took his leave, shuffling off in the directions of the barracks. Ryad watched him go, again, but felt a little lighter and less exhausted than before.

* * *

_"B u t ... t e a , t h a t ... m i n e!"_

_"I s a i d  shhh!"_

_"Fookin'... s l e e p  i n... bed... blockin'..."_

_"... j u s t tired. Leave him be."_

The hushed whispering slowly filtered through the cottony haze in Ryad's brain. There was something on his head, and he could vaguely hear footsteps of people who were doing their utmost best to walk quietly but mostly failing. Blearily, the man lifted his head up from his arms and instinctively wiped at the trail of drool that had dried on his cheek; apparently, he had fallen asleep in the kitchen.

"Fookin' took ya long enough to wa-" The British man that Ryad had appropriated the tea from, who preferred to be called Thatcher over his real name, was cut off in the middle of the sentence with an sharp elbow to the stomach by Elena. The older man grumbled and stalked out the kitchen, a steaming mug of tea and a wrapped sandwich in his gloved hands.

" _Buenos días, guapo._ " The woman was grinning widely, her eyes dancing with mirth.

"W...what time is... it?" Ryad sat up straight with a yawn, removing his aching fingers from where he'd wrapped them around the mug. He ran a hand over his face and then over the top of his head, a habit of his. Instead of hair, he felt the tightly-knitted material of a beanie. 

"Almost ten. That must've been some good sleep, you were holding the mug for hours!" Elena chuckled as she slid around him to grab something. A few seconds later, a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast was deposited in front of him. Elena sat down on the barstool next to him and dug in hungrily. Ryad turned around to see who was using the stove behind him.

Sébastien's broad back, the man still wearing a single layer of his thermal shirt but with the sleeves rolled up, was facing him. The Canadian's customary beanie was not on his head, exposing the rare sight of his mused hair, which boasted a cowlick just above his left ear.

" _¡Qué adorable eres!_ "

Ryad aimed a swipe at Elena when the woman grinned and poked at his cheek with a gloved finger; an embarrassing flush had made its way past his ears and onto his face. Elena dodged the playful smack and instead reached up and tugged the beanie even further down his reddening face.

With a grumble, Ryad pulled the beanie off his head and set it aside. Elena's mouth dropped, and then she began to laugh in earnest, slapping the palm of her hand on the countertop.

" _Me gusta tu cabello—_ ”

" _¡C_ á _llate!_ "

“You don’t like the food?” A fresh mug of orange juice clinked on the countertop next to Ryad’s arm. Sébastien picked up the other mug and his beanie, stuffing the hat into the back pocket of his BDU pants.

“No, no, it’s good. Very good.” Ryad picked up a fork and started shoveling food into his mouth, ignoring Elena’s pointed looks and silent mockery for his awkwardness.

A few moments later, Meghan Castelleno stepped into the kitchen with a tablet in her hand. “Sébastien, there’s a mis—”

The woman paused when her gaze went from a chuckling Elena who seemed as if she had a front row seat to a telenovela soap opera, to Ryad wearing a heavy winter coat that clearly did not belong to him, and then over to hatless Sébastien who was still cooking. The wink Elena aimed in her direction said all she needed to know.

“I… will come back later. There’s still plenty of time before the briefing.”

“I’ll go with you, Meghan! I have better things to do than to keep these two hopeless men company.” Elena teasingly raked her hand through the mess that was Ryad’s hair, which got her an extended middle finger in response. “ _¡_ _Hasta luego!_ ”

“ _Sólo lárgate. Ya no quiero hablar contigo.”_

Elena blew a kiss and left with a thoroughly confused Meghan in tow. Sébastien finally turned off the stove and sat down on the seat to Ryad’s right, the plate piled high with breakfast sausages, sunny-side up eggs, and slightly burnt waffles. In his other hand was a mug of plain coffee. The Canadian gestured to his plate. “Would you like some waffles?”

“I’m okay. I haven’t finished everything yet.” Ryad scraped up the last bits of scrambled eggs. He didn’t usually like to eat eggs in the morning, but on a sleep-deprived, empty stomach it didn’t quite matter what he ate as long as he managed to get something down…

“I made too much. Here.” Two thick waffles landed on the space where his eggs used to occupy, and the maple syrup bottle clicked open. A stream of syrup drenched the waffles. “The syrup already has butter in it, so we don’t have to add more.”

Ryad poked at the waffles with his fork, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to form on his face. He was only mildly successful.

Sébastien chewed at his food slowly, as if he was thinking hard at the same time. “Good to know that you got about six hours of sleep. Feel better?”

“Yes. I do. Much better, in fact. Thank you for letting me borrow the coat, it helped a lot.” Ryad took a bite of the waffles. Too sweet, but since Sébastien made it, he’d eat it.

“Keep it, I have more. Just remember to put in a request for a heavy coat in your size later, though. I think mine’s a bit short for you.”

“No! I mean.” Ryad coughed and took a drink from his mug of orange juice. “It fits fine.”

Sébastien raised an eyebrow, but turned back to his food with a slight shake of his head. “Alright then, Jackal.”

“Ryad. You may call me Ryad, I do not mind.” The Spaniard blurted out, and then inwardly cursed himself as he could feel the tips of his ears starting to burn again.

“Ryad.” Sébastien paused and tested out his pronunciation, and then ducked his head, as if shy. “I don’t mind if you say my name the other way. Not everyone knows French, after all.”

“ _Sebastíen?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Ryad finally let out the smile he had been keeping back the entire time. “Thank you, _Sebastíen_.”

“No problem, Ryad.”  Sébastien sat up straight and took a sip from his coffee mug, a smile also forming on his face.       


End file.
